Lunch Date
by mkwiant
Summary: This is a fun bit of fluff for those who enjoy AU SS/OC fics. It is just Severus exploring his feelings after the war, and features him meeting an interesting OC in his local pub.


This is just another fun fluffy SS/OC one-shot. It's AU after the war as most of my fics will be. As usual JK Rowling owns the HP universe. I'm not making any money off of this drivel, but I hope you enjoy it. Leave some love when you're done reading. I always appreciate feedback. Thanks for reading!

Lunch Date

Severus sighed and put his new copy of Potion's weekly down on his new end table. He had recently purchased some new furniture, and he was having a hard time getting comfortable. The leather wingchair he sat in was certainly soft, but it lacked the worn, sunk-in feeling that the old armchair he use to sit in had. Thankfully, it also lacked the moth-eaten appearance. It truly had been a horrid looking chair. The new couch was a nice piece as well. When he told Minerva he was thinking about redecorating over the summer, she had been most helpful. She told him of a new store that had opened up in Diagon Alley recently, Martin's home furnishing and upholstery. He had taken great pains to keep-up Spinner's End after the war. There was a great deal to do, but since he would be living for a great deal longer, he imagined that he would finally have to put some work into the old place.

So, airing out bad memories and bad furniture, he had set to work. Now, he looked around to survey his study. The new lamps gave off a nice golden glow, and the curtains shielded the noonday sun, keeping the room cooler, if giving it a more somber appearance. He had even purchased a decorative cupboard in which to keep his liquor. He only purchased the finest brands. His years of friendship with Lucius had given him a taste for the finer things. But, however he filled his life with new and rare books, fine liquor, or new leather wingback chairs. He was still utterly lonely. He sighed.

Well, he now found himself uncomfortable and hungry. He had nothing in the kitchen to eat, but he had nice new plates and silverware to stare at, and the oak table was quite lovely too. He stood, streatching his tall and rangy frame. He stood well over 6 feet tall, long and lean, he towered over most men. He seemed even further separated from the populace that surrounded him by an ever growing sense of despair. Loneliness seemed to at away at him. After the war, he had spent some time in St. Mungos. He had been surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the kind healers there. The elderly matron that had taken care of him had been a rather tenacious woman. He had snapped at her and pointed his rather sharp, sarcastic wit at her. She had given as good as she got.

"You remind me of my husband, God rest his soul. He was just as mean and foul tempered as you. Minnie, he'd say when he was in an introspective mood, I don't know why it is you put up with me. Herbert, I'd say, I wouldn't if I thought you knew any better," she laughed like a little girl and her face had turned a merry shade of red. Something in him had snapped, and he had laughed with her. It was true, he thought, he didn't know any better. It was the only way he knew how to deal with people any more. He kept them all at an arm's length away. His sarcasm and cruel wit were the only armor he had to defend himself from the continual onslaught of hate and torture that had assaulted him throughout his childhood. Whether at home or at school. His father had hated him, his mother had been apathetic, and his schoolmates had been typical little shits. The Marauders had been the worst.

Now, at fourty years of age, he still had no better way of dealing with people than he had when he was 14. He had never been loved. Well, perhaps Dumbledore had loved him. He was as close to a father figure as he had ever had, he reflected. Being forced to kill him had been the worst moment of his life. After the war, Potter had revealed to everyone that he had been working for Dumbledore all along. There were still those that doubted and despised him. Minerva had not been one of these. She had believed him. She had seen the grief in his eyes. She offered him his old position back, and now, his life had settled back into the old tedium from term to term.

After he had healed, he had briefly thought about starting his own business, but he lacked the capitol and the will. It was all so pointless. He had lived for Lily for so long, and now. Well, now what was there to live for? Upon reflection, he realized that he would always love Lily, but that bitter disappointment left him still alone and lonely. He knew people who lost their loved ones and moved on. There was hope for others to fall in love and live again. Could he have that? He had worshiped her memory for so long that he feared he had created some idol that was wholly unlike the girl who had been.

He walked out of the house and warded his door, squinting at the sunshine. He mused, really, Lily had been nothing like the idol he had created in his mind. He sat down on the warm step and rubbed his hands on his knobby knees. He unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up on his arms. He looked at the empty patch of skin on his forearm where his Dark Mark had been. These old marks on his soul faded, and he realized that his feelings for Lily had also faded into something more akin to reverence. He honored what she had stood for, an emblem of the first war. She exemplified so much of what was lost, loving mother and wife. She was a gentle spirit crushed by the evil will of Voldemort. He destroyed goodness and left death and destruction in his wake.

But, he was dead and Lily's memory was a silver ephemeral strand kept in a vile somewhere in Potter's house. He hadn't wanted the memories back. They were only copies of the permanent reminders of what had happen that were inextricably woven into his brain. He could recall them all with accurate clarity, but somehow, the meaning attached to her, to Lily, had changed. He had never known what it was to love because, love was something that was shared. A love like that, anyway. The love between a man and a woman was something shared, something consummated. And, he had realized not all that long ago, they had never had that.

Oh, he had had her friendship for a time, such as it was, but Lily had known how he felt. She had felt uncomfortable with his devotion to her, and she had used his one moment of disgrace against him. She had refused to forgive him. He was sure that she told herself that it was unforgivable, and of course, it was. However, she had known that it was said hastily in a moment of his own disgrace. To have a girl, and to have her especially come to his defense. It had been humiliating. She had never forgiven him, or perhaps she had. But, she had wanted to distance herself from him. He knew she had been embarrassed of him for quite some time. It had hurt, but he realized, she had been little more than a child herself.

He sighed, he had forgiven her as he lay on that bed in St. Mungos with Minnie tugging at his covers and fidgeting with his pillows. He had let the old hurt go. But how to move on? How did one fill their life with such a gaping hole gnawing at their soul. He had never been loved, and he had never had many true friends. He still kept in touch with Lucius, and Narcissa tried to set him up with her flighty friends. Oh they were all beautiful pureblood women. He was distinctly aware of his own half-blood status and poverty. What could he offer these women? Himself? Preposterous. They were all polite, of course. They smiled at him, and he knew they gawked at his gaunt face and hooked nose. None of those beautiful women would have dared tell him so, but they didn't need to. He was a skilled Legillimens.

He finally begged Narcissa to stop, and she had relented eventually. No one wanted him, and he certainly could not expect a Witch of any standing to want to ally herself with an ex Death Eater. He snorted. It did not matter what he did. He could give all of his worldly goods to charity and spend the rest of his days caring for orphans, and the Wizarding world would still revile him, if only privately.

He stood and dusted off his dark trousers. He watched as a young mother walked hand in hand with her little toddler. He could not tell if it was a boy or a girl. It was a pretty picture though. The old neighborhood was becoming more habitable. They had even built a park near the cul de sac at the end of his lane. Young children laughed and played. The housing commission had spent a great deal in refurbishing the exteriors of the houses and maintaining the sidewalks. He had painted his house as well, a somber shade of gray.

The toddler fell and began to cry, and the mother picked up the child to cradle the golden head against hers. She soothed it and patted it. He had never had such succor directed at him, and he was at once perversely jealous of the young child as the mother ran her hand lovingly across the childs back soothing the hiccupping tears.

He turned to walk toward the pub and his stomach growled. The sun beat down on his head making him sweat and causing his lank hair to stick to his face. He tucked it behind his ears and ran his long fingers through the oily length of it. He had washed it twice this morning, and it was already greasy.

There were only a few patrons at the pub. The air was cool, and the light was dim. He sat in the back and waited for the waitress to approach him.

"Would you like the special Mr. Snape?" she asked squinting at him. He had been coming to the pub since he was a child. His father had brought him a couple of times to watch football with his friends. The pub had changed ownership several times, but Jenny had worked there for the last ten years. She had to be at least fifty-five. She was a slender bucktoothed woman with squinty eyes and dishwater-blond hair. She chewed her gum with an open mouth. That always disturbed him. He refrained from thinking about her crooked teeth, as he was well aware of the state of his own teeth.

"Yes, that will be fine." He replied.

As he sat waiting for the fish and chips, the door opened. He could see a darkened figure set against the bright sun that streamed through the door. He was momentarily blinded by the brightness of the light, and it took a minute for his vision to adjust after the door closed.

A young woman stood at the door with a child. The woman was short and curvy. He could only see the back of her, as she was turned toward the child. The child, a girl, was about seven years old and had sandy blond hair, much lighter than the woman's. He admired the woman's figure. She wore dark denim jeans and a form fitting top that hugged the curve of her waist and the flare of her hips. He appreciated Muggle clothing greatly. The robes that Witches wore usually hid a woman's frame. And, while he may never have the never to approach a woman, he certainly was not dead or immune to their charms.

She bent over slightly to scold the child and he admired the pert plumpness of her bottom. "Quite nice," he thought.

She stood and ran her hand under her hair in an attempt to cool off her neck. The long silky strands of her dark hair fell lightly against her back. It was long and shiny, very pretty. He watched surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye as she turned around to survey the pub.

"Now, Amanda, we are going to have lunch. If you continue to misbehave, I am going to tell your mother what a naughty girl you have been . . " she looked sternly at the obstinate little face that glared back at her.

"But Aunt Sara, I don't _want_ to eat here. I .. ."

Her whining was cut off by the woman's terse reply, "No!" she said firmly. "I am not wandering all over town in an effort to please you. You will either eat here or eat nothing." She gave her a no-nonsense look. Severus smirked.

The little girl had spotted him and he groaed internally.

"Let's sit there," she had pointed to the table just across from him.

"Alright." The young girl grabbed Sara's hand and drug her over to the table.

"Hello," Amanda said as she looked over at Severus.

"Amanda," Sara's voice warned, "please leave the gentleman alone."

"It's all right," Severus smiled at Sara.

He met her eyes steadily gauging her reaction.

XXXXXXX

Sara sat in the car with Amanda fighting to keep her control. They were about to head into the pub to eat lunch. Amanda had been grating at her nerves all morning. "Children," she thought, "should not be allowed to become so willful." They had stopped at two other restaurants already, and none of these had met with Amanda's approval. She had been to this pub before, and this was it. They were eating here. She looked over at the sandy haired girl and said firmly. "We are eating here. This is it. I don't want to hear another word from your mouth otherwise I'm telling your father about my carpet."

Amanda had spilled red paint on her carpet. It was likely ruined, and she would have to rent a carpet cleaner in an effort to try and get the paint out of the carpet. She hoped that would work. She sighed and Amanda looked properly chastened.

She looked at the little girl again and wondered if she would ever have her own children. At 34 she was still single. She didn't know what she was doing wrong. Well, that wasn't true. If she spent as much time meeting men as she spent with her head in a book she would probably have met someone by now. She enjoyed learning and she loved her job. She worked as a secretary for the Art Department at the local university, and when she was not taking Ceramics classes or drawing in the studio, she was in the library researching. She loved experimenting with new glazes trying to perfect the chemical reactions that created some of the most beautiful glazes that she had ever seen. The photography professor was teaching her how to make slides of her work.

She almost had enough credits to graduate, and then she would begin working on her MFA. She wasn't sure if she would continue to focus on Ceramics or Painting. Perhaps she would get a dual masters. That would certainly make her more marketable.

There just were no men in her classes that she was interested in. The professor was just too, odd. Most of the professors were a little different. She could appreciate different, but she wasn't attracted to them either. The men in her class, well, boys, were just too young. A couple of them had asked her out or invited her to their parties. She just wasn't the partying kind. She liked to go home and nestle down into her couch and read. She was currently trying to learn Latin, and declentions were really a pain in the arse. She knew enough to know that she had a lot to learn.

She looked at Amanda and sighed. She was well on her way to fourty and she had no romantic prospects. How depressing. "Come on, let's go eat."

She entered the pub and relished the feeling of the cool air on her skin. The summer sun was quite warm, and it was likely going to be a very hot day.

Amanda was fiddeling with some picture on the wall and she pulled her close and chided her once again. It seemed that children needed constant supervision. It really was exhausting. She let Amanda choose a table. And she only noticed the tall pale man when Amanda turned to speak to him.

Amanda had greeted the man, and Sara had given her, her best "I'm warning you" voice, hoping that she would quit pestering the man. The man had responded, and she was entranced. His voice was like nothing she had ever heard before. The deep, cool timbre slid over her skin like silk. He didn't speak so much as he purred. Her large brown eyes took him in greedily. He was tall, and boy did she have a thing for tall men. His hair was dark and fell to his shoulders. It was a bit lank, but she attributed that to the hot weather. It was as black as midnight just like his eyes. She met his steady gaze and felt lost in those glittering dark orbs.

He had a nice sharp jaw. She could tell that he was an older man, but his skin was firm, if pale. His face had a noble cast, and he had a large hooked nose. Rather than unpleasant, it gave his face a rather posh, noble look as if he were a king viewing the rest of humanity with distain. She had a thing for pompous, sarcastic men. She hoped he had a dry, wry sense of humor. That was really sexy. She smiled at him and fought the urge to giggle when he arched his eyebrow at her. He had lovely, dark eyebrows and dark silken lashes. Really, it was a sin for a man to have such long lashes.

She held out her hand and introduced herself, "Sara Wickson, pleased to meet you Mr.?"

"Severus, Severus Snape," he reached out and took her hand with his long, cool fingers. He drew her hand up to his lips, firm, masculine lips. Those were the kind of narrow, soft lips that a man should have. They pursed above his chin strengthening the monarchical presence that oozed from him.

XXXXXX

Severus smirked as the young Muggle took him in. He read her every thought. Initially, he felt a little guilty for doing so, until he caught the gist of her inner monologue. He sat up a little straighter and smirked at her. He had no idea why he was having such an effect on her, but he was more than happy to indulge this little fantasy. He was more than a little intrigued. He kept tabs on her thoughts while rifling through her head gathering the overall impression that she was a quiet, bookish girl. That was just fine; he liked quiet and bookish. She was an artist, too. Quite nice, and she wanted to draw his profile. He fought the urge to laugh. Who on earth would really fancy drawing Severus Snape? He detested his nose, but evidently she thought it was quite fetching.

Her nose on the other hand was quite delightful, small and pert. She had a lovely round face, wide dark eyes and lovely full lips. He wished the lighting in the pub was better. It was bright enough to let him see the faint blush that stole across her cheeks as he placed a kiss on her soft hand.

"OOOhh, I think he likes you" Amanda giggled, and Sara gave her a cross look.

"Very astute of you Amanda," Severus chuckled as his fingers lingered on Sara's hand.

Jenny brought him fish and chips and took Sara's order. They would have the special as well. He chatted pleasantly with Sara about her classes and Jenny brought out their order quickly. Sara talked to him about her current project, crystalline glazes. He was curious to see some of the works she produced, so she pulled out her phone and showed him a few very lovely, bright pictures of several vases she had thrown on a potter's wheel and glazed. He admired the skill it must have taken to turn a useless lump of clay into the rather delicate looking vessels.

"This is my favorite." She smiled at him. "I threw this one last week. It's made of porcelain, which is rather difficult to throw."

"What do you mean, throw?" he asked

"Oh, that a term used to denote that it was made on a wheel, thrown. "She smiled at him.

"Look at this," she looked up at him timidly, "this is a picture after it was fired in the kiln. It is so thin you can see through it."

"Lovely," he admired the piece. "Did you decorate it?" He admired the dark blue, oriental style decorations that were finely painted on the surface of the vase.

"Yes." She was almost bashful as she tapped the phone to show him another shot of the vase.

She was a very talented artist. He had rather discerning taste in art, probably due to his long association with Lucius, who had many fine pieces in his home. He wondered what Lucius would think of this talented little Muggle.

Sara jumped as her phone rang. It read Greg in bold black letters and began to ring obnoxiously.

Severus stared at the blinking screen.

"Sorry, I have to take this, it's Amanda's father," she answered the phone and walked a few paces away to talk quietly.

"So, do you like her?" Amanda asked.

He stared mutely at the girl, who refused to be quelled by his stern gaze.

She nodded, "You do."

He arched an eyebrow at her and felt a gentle tug on his thoughts. His eyes opened wider, and he realized that the girl was a natural Legillimens.

"Oops, sorry," though she hardly seemed repentant. "Mom says I shouldn't do that," she put her hand over her mouth as she smiled. She laughed nervously.

Severus felt the crackle of magical energy in the air. His eyes narrowed, "you shouldn't go poking around in people's heads. It's very rude."

"Well, then you should apologize to Aunt Sara," she responded pertly.

He blushed, "I'll tell you what. I won't tell if you don't." The girl looked sagely at him, "deal."

"Is your mother a Witch," he asked.

The girl blinked and looked around, "Yes, but I'm not suppose to talk about it." She whispered. "Daddy," she paused. "Daddy is a Muggle, and his family doesn't know." She had her hand cupped around her mouth and she was trying to be quiet.

"And your aunt?" he asked.

"She is mom's sister. She knows, but she's a," she paused here and looked at her aunt, "she's a Squib, but please don't tell her I told you." She smiled at him.

Severus nodded thinking that would make things a lot easier, a Squib. She clearly didn't recognize him then, so her family must live more in the Muggle world.

Sara walked over, "Well, your father's appointment didn't last as long as he expected it to. He will be here to pick you up in a couple of minutes. Are you finished with lunch?" Sara waited for Amanda's response.

The girl looked at Severus and winked, "Yes Aunt Sara, so if I'm going home, are you going to stay here with Mr. Snape?" she smirked as only an impertinent young child can.

Sara looked archly at the young child, "That, is none of your business missy."

"You should bring him to dinner tonight." She paused as her father walked into the pub. "By Mr. Snape. See you soon," and she ran over to her father.

Sara gave an exasperated sigh and looked over at Severus who had been studying her intently.

"Would you care for a cup of tea?" he asked. "I only live a couple of blocks from here," his dark eyes glittered up a her.

She smiled at him as he stood to let her admire his long lean frame, "I'd like that," she blushed as he took her hand, "a lot."


End file.
